


Feeling Better?

by 99_Girl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Finale, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99_Girl/pseuds/99_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering Marian's identity at the coronation, Killian comforts Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Better?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> I wrote this immediately following the OUAT season 3 finale for the CS Bangarang tag on Tumblr. It's pretty raunchy. You've been warned.
> 
> As a note: I don't own OUAT or any of these characters. Also, I'd love to hear your thoughts/suggestions in the comments! Thanks so much for reading.

 

There's no air, at least it feels that way to Emma. In a fraction of a second-- a breath, a blink-- all of the work she'd done to weave a rapport with Regina unravels. Following the revelation of Marion's identity, Emma merely stares, mouth agape, before offering the only thing she's able: an apology. It's not enough, though; she knows it can't be.

Regina's eyes shimmer with barely-contained tears. “You'd better hope to hell you didn't bring anything else back.”

Emma stands steeped in stunned silence while Regina glares, trembling in fury, until Emma feels a firm hand at her elbow which gently guides her towards the door and out into the chill night.

“Come, Love. Let us walk.” Killian meshes his hand with hers, offering a squeeze before turning towards the marina.

This feels like a dream or dissociative haze. Her hands and feet are weak, clumsy, and she barely registers that Killian has wrapped his arm around her waist, propping her up. Next thing she knows, he's lifted her, effortlessly, to sit upon an overturned dinghy in the boat house.

Leaning forward, he encases her in a warm embrace. “Emma, you're understandably distraught, however you mustn't torment yourself, Love. There is someth--”

“What, Killian? How can I forgive myself for this? I fucked up! I ruined her happy ending!” A soundless sob bubbles into her throat and Emma buries her face against his neck to seek comfort in his spicy, familiar scent. A plaintiff whisper, “How is it fair that you and I have, well, started something, when she's probably going to be alone again?”

Breathing out, Killian strokes her hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “Love, while these events are comprehensibly devastating to Regina, Robin, and Marion, you were acting out of compassion. The Evil Queen wasted many a year without any thought to consequences-- evidenced by the reality that, had you not rescued Marion, Regina would bear responsibility for her murder. Were Robin to learn of this, their love affair should surely have been doomed at the outset. You've given Regina a boon and we can hope she sees that before long. There is still a chance for their love”.

“You really think that?” She sits back to look into his eyes.

“I swear.” Delicately, he lifts Emma's chin with his hook, sweeping the tears from her cheeks with his hand. When he presses his lips to hers, a wave of relief cascades over her; she moans softly into his mouth and deepens the kiss, brushing her tongue against his, her fingers sliding beneath the hem of his vest to grip the cut of his hips above his waistband, thumbs stroking idly over taut, velvety skin. She tentatively slips her hand into the top of his pants.

Killian breaks their kiss, choking upon a quickly-drawn breath. “Emma, we don't have to--”

“I want you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone.”  
  
At her words, Killian's skin flushes beneath her fingers, his eyes dilate, and he runs the tip of his tongue along his teeth. Once again his lips find hers, and the first tender touch instantaneously morphs into a hungry exploration of each others mouths. Emma begins to undo his breech ties, fumbling a bit in her urgency. His kisses trail down her throat, an upon reaching her sweater's neck, he unceremoniously shoves her jacket from her shoulders, then yanks her shirt up and bra cup down. By the time he takes her exposed nipple between his lips, nipping softly, she's managed to open his trousers.

“Fuck”, he murmurs against her breast, breath quickened and thready. And again, “Fuck!”, as she wraps her slender fingers around his enormous cock, stroking reverently. Killian's hips thrust into her fist and he grips her thighs; silken beads of pre-cum coat her fingertips; her name tumbles from his lips like a prayer.

He steps between her legs and grinds against her, bringing a rushing warmth and pooling wetness at her core. “Killian”, she intones, “fuck me like a pirate.”

Without warning, his hook snags the front of her bra, ripping it in two. Emma gasps, but only due to the smooth, cool metal against her skin. He stands up straight, forcing down his breeches until they're at his knees before palming one of her breasts eagerly with his hand and flicking the nipple of the other with the curve of his hook; throwing her head back, Emma moans, a deep, rough, unabashed sound.

“Remove your bottoms, Love.” She complies, working the button and zipper quickly, and as she's about to squirm out of her jeans, Killian pulls her off the dinghy by the waist, spins her on the spot, and pushes her firmly against said boat. Emma emits a surprised chuckle as he deftly shoves down her pants and panties and, all barriers removed, rocks his hips against her behind. He's unbelievably hard and hot against her ass; she leans into the boat for support and wiggles against him-- his ensuing growl sends shivers down her thighs and up her spine.

“Emma.” Killian grips himself, running the head of his cock along her folds and caressing it softly, insistently against her clit. She can feel that she's dripping wet; rivulets of her fluid run down her thighs and glaze his length. “You smell so sweet, Love. You're soaking.”

Emma unconsciously ruts her hips against him, unable to wait any longer. “Please, Killian. Do it now.”

Swiftly, Killian is poised at her entrance, pressing in slowly to give her body a chance to accept his size. Her walls part gradually at his patient ministrations, helped along when he curls against her back and reaches around to her clit, working it in practiced circles until she comes around him.

With her core relaxed and receptive, he penetrates her fully. “I haven't hurt you have I, Love?”

Emma sighs in mock exasperation, “No! Just fuck me, pirate!” She giggles when he mutters a gravelly “wench” and grips her hips, his hook offering a delicious twinge of momentary pain. All tenderness aside, Killian moves within her, thrusting roughly. Emma notes the contradiction between the sounds they're making-- whispered oaths, groaned profanities, creaking wood, the slapping of skin on skin as he pounds into her-- and the serene wash of waves upon the shore. She's reminded of just how much he's given up to be with her.

Again Killian coils himself over her, fingers finding and stroking her clit, hook braced against the boat, just under her breast where the momentum of their movements causes her nipple to pendulum overhead, brushing over the chilly, metal edge. The sensation is overwhelming and her thighs begin to tremble as her orgasm builds within her belly. Sensing that she's close, Killian speeds his finger between her legs, thrusting harder, spurred by her sweet, panting whimpers.

“Yes, there, fuck-- Killian, just, yes, just like-- like-- like,” Emma comes violently, legs quaking, barely able to stand on her own. Tremors radiate through her, shaking her all the way into her bones. Her walls clamping down on him cause him to climax seconds later, filling her to the brim with his seed. It drips down her thighs, tickling her rapidly-chilling skin.

Killian chuckles, “Well, Love, I think that dinghy is all which keeps us standing. Feeling better?” He presses a kiss to her shoulder blade, breathing in her intoxicating scent and tasting the delicate film of sweat on her skin.

“Mmm hmm,” she hums. “What do you say we go back to Granny's and have an encore in your shower?”

“As you wish.”


End file.
